Good Riddance
by Tasting Raindrops
Summary: A one shot about a stylist who's not your typical Capital puppet doll. I'd love it if you would read and review!


Hello, everybody who happens to be reading this! I am going to be perfectly honest and admit that I wrote this randomly, out of the blue, because I was bored and had nothing better to do. 'Cause, yeah, summer projects aren't important enough for me to waste my free time on them.

Anyway, it's about a stylist named Riya who isn't really typical Capital like. It's a short one shot, but I'd still love it if you would read it and review it! Maybe I could even add on to it, but I don't know what exactly I'd write about. Whatever, hope you like it!

(**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own The Hunger Games or anything, of course. Just a huge fan!)

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**Good Riddance**

"Oh my God. You are _not_ making me wear that."

The girl's nasal voice runs through my ears. Again. I plaster on my patented fake smile showing all of my teeth, conveying with my eyes that she has no say in the matter.

"Venessa, darling, you have to." Even to myself my voice sounds strained, trying to stay calm. "You will look amazing in it. People will be fighting over each other to sponsor you!"

Venessa eyes the dress I'm holding from the hanger like it's a giant tarantula: disgusting, shocking, and slightly nauseating. Though I would never admit it, were I in her shoes, I would react to this news the same way. The dress was truly hideous. Not at all my taste; Tizzy designed this outfit. _Goodness, Tizzy, girl. I love you like a sister, but you have _got_ to get up to date on fashion trends._

The dress was bright red, body hugging from the chest to the ankles with a long slit up the right side stopping right below the hip. The single sleeve was three quarters in length and huge mounds of gold ruffles stuck straight up at the top of the shoulder and gradually got longer, falling down, as it wrapped around the rest of the top. In a random, swirly pattern, rubies of every shape and size covered masses of the velvet fabric. Like I said, it was truly hideous.

Scrunching up her upturned nose, Venessa grumbles an unwilling, "Fine," and snatches it from me. She pulls off her robe and I help her into the dress. It's so tight we have to yank at to get it to straighten out. After a few adjustments of the frilly, outdated ruffles, I stand back to get a better look. Actually, when worn, it didn't look quite as horrible. Really the only things that needed fixing were the ruffles. Without them, the dress would have been quite flattering, especially on Venessa. In fact, I doubt anyone could pull it off better.

Relieved that it wasn't a complete fail, I say, my eyebrows reaching up, "Venessa, you look stunning." I'm sure she'll appreciate my little bit of stretched truth telling rather than what I'm actually thinking. _Fine_ would be quite an insult in her spoiled mind. "Here, let me show you." I drag her over to the mirror that stretches from floor to ceiling. For the split second before I step out of view to let Venessa look, I can see myself. My midnight blue hair that falls in ringlets down my back and my white skin create an interesting contrast, catching the eye. Speaking of eye, the gold contacts in my eyes glint and shine when the light hits them just right. Compared to other Capital citizens, I look very abnormal. I have never gotten any type of surgery or tattoo. I don't wear much makeup, just some gold lipstick to match my contacts. I've never gotten anything dyed either. Unbelievably, my hair is naturally blue. None of my friends believe me, of course, but I would never lie. I only use creative truth telling. I also tell my friends this, but they just sit there staring at me with a huge smile, letting me know that they have no idea what I'm talking about. At least I warned them.

Venessa stands there staring at her reflection, rotating her hips and chest to get better angles. With her tall, curvy stature and thick volumes of jet black hair, I'm sure males of every age would be drooling at the mouth for her even if she was wearing a baggy gray hoodie and ripped pants. The lucky girl. What I wouldn't give to be able to wear a giant hoodie and still look Capital material. But hoodies have gone _so_ out of style. Apparently, they were an ancient article of clothing that someone important started wearing randomly one day. Day two, everyone who was anyone had two, three, fifteen of their own. Then, as an unspoken code, one day nobody wore them again. But I still have my eight different ones, hidden so that I wouldn't be scolded for keeping them. When I'm at home alone, all the time, I pull one out and wear it around the house, loving the way it consumes me and warms my insides.

Pulling me out of my trance, Venessa utters, "Well, Riya, I guess it's not the worst possible chariot costume. And I do make it look as good as it's ever going to!" She shimmies her hips and smiles seductively at the reproduced image of herself. I feel my gagging reflex start to act up.

"Yes you do," I agree, hoping she doesn't notice my slight sarcastic tone. That would give myself a long, angry lecture about how she's "way too good to be treated that way." Talk about a brat. "Now, if you'd just go to the couch so I can put on your shoes." _And so you can stop making those disgusting kissy faces at your _own reflection_._

Reluctantly, Venessa leaves the mirror and sits on the plush, overstuffed couch, leaning back and resting her bare feet up on the coffee table like she owned the place.

About an hour later, I had Venessa back in front of the mirror, costume complete. Once again, she is making faces at herself, and I do my best to ignore them while I give her a once over to make sure everything is the way Tizzy and I planned.

Venessa's stick straight tresses are pulled up and over the top of her head to the left side of her face and pulled together with a massive gold clip, letting its mass splay over her shoulder and the front of her chest. She has on heaps of gold eyeliner and red eye shadow. More of the red jewels have covered her face in the pattern of the dress, meshing seamlessly with it. Fake eyelashes extend a full inch away from her eyes and her full lips have been smothered in red lipstick. I didn't miss anything. Her outfit is as perfect as it's ever going to be.

A few moments later, Tizzy and the other tribute from District 1, Derekson, meet up with us. Derekson looks breathtaking, if I do say so myself, in a red tux with the same ruby spirals along the jacket and on his face like Venessa. Gold highlights have been added to his gelled and spiked hair. He has on a little bit of light, translucent sparkly gold eye shadow which he seems to be quite self conscious of as well. Venessa and Derekson will look great next to each other.

We all go down to the bottom floor of the Remake Center and make our way over to District 1's chariot, Tizzy babbling nonstop as usual.

The chariot is red and gold, coordinating faultlessly with our tributes' outfits. The horses are totally white with a red banner laid across their backs with the gold words District 1, a touch that Tizzy and I decided to add this year.

While Tizzy continues her mindless jabber, I help get Venessa and Derekson into the chariot. "Just be confident. Ooze poise and superiority, but be relaxed. Make sure to smile at the audience and recognize them, too, though." With a slight change of mind, I amend, "You know what, never mind that. Venessa, you beam to the audience and wave, blow air kisses, love the publicity. Derekson, wave a little bit and smile some, but look kind of bored, if anything. You both will be jewels." I wait to see if either of them notice my weak joke, but they don't react. _Or stones might be more accurate._

"Tizzy, do you want to add anything?" I look at my partner stylist trying to catch her awareness.

Her eyes snap to me, and she rushes, "Oh, no, I couldn't have said it better myself! You two will be amazing, just wait and see. They are simply going to _love_ you! I don't think these outfits could be any more striking, no one could miss you! You lucky ducks, I've always wanted to be able to go on one of those chariots all dressed up and with a spotlight. In fact, when I was younger…" and then she was off again, her high-speed train of a mouth rambling at a thousand miles an hour.

Soon, the chariot is being pulled out, and I watch as Venessa's and Derekson's faces immediately shift from bored to excited in the blink of an eye. _Ah, what great performers we have here._ Maybe they'll actually be able to pull it off. And if they don't… good riddance.

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Hope you liked it! Pretty please review!

-Tasting Raindrops-


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